A/N: It's been a long time since I've written canon characters the way they're supposed to be portrayed. I hope I don't butcher these two lmao

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Approximately five weeks have passed since Wilson was transported to this dangerous dimension. As a man of science, Wilson should have been intrigued with the various creatures and plants that mirrored the real world, but this treacherous realm was the furthest thing from interesting. Behind every rock, hiding in every tree, and leaping across every pond was a new threat. Even by the fire there was a chance to be attacked by something - a pack of hounds, a territorial beefalo, anything.

A defeated sigh left the scientist's lips as he squatted on the ground, igniting the kindling he had placed a few hours prior. The sun was beginning to set and soon this world would be infested with shadow creatures sent by the mysterious entity called Charlie.

Taking a seat on the ground, Wilson exhaled yet again, stretching his legs out while he balanced himself on his hands. There was barely any time for rest today. Wilson closed his eyes as he reflected on today's events. Berry picking, spider slaying, crafting half a dozen items, running for dear life... His tired eyes slowly peeled open as he gazed at the empty sky above him.

A low growl resonated from the scientist's gut. I don't have much, Wilson thought to himself, sliding a crude backpack off his shoulders. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had made this. Back when he had a proper science machine.. Too bad that got destroyed by a Clockwork Knight. Regardless, Wilson learned his lesson. Don't try to observe the sentient machines.

Opening his pack, Wilson realized all he had to eat tonight was a handful of berries and two carrots. Wilson wasn't even sure these berries weren't poison. There was no way to know unless he ate them, but considering how he hasn't died after weeks of consuming these foreign plants, he reassured himself he was fine. Probably.

Using the fire to his advantage, Wilson roasted the very few items he had for dinner tonight rotisserie style after piercing his food with some twigs he had gathered while he was out. Even though this had been enough to sustain him these past few weeks, it was apparent that if he continued to barely scrape by like this, he would more than likely starve. His stomach roared impatiently as the mere morsels he had obtained today cooked just inches away.

Even if his food wasn't completely finished, Wilson wanted to - had to - eat. Eagerly, Wilson took his miniscule portions by the very twig they cooked on, barely letting anything cool before stuffing his face. His mouth burned and half of what he ate tasted of charcoal, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was a man of science, not a man of culinary. The only cooking he was ever good at involved chemicals that couldn't - or rather shouldn't - be consumed by a living being, anyways.

As soon as Wilson realized he had finished his rations for the night, he sank into his shoulders. He tossed the twigs he had used for tonight's meal into the flames in defeat. Bringing his knees to his chest, the once proud and brilliant scientist wallowed in self pity. There was no way he could survive for much longer. Not like this.

There was a time when Wilson wasn't this pessimistic. He was bright, brilliant, confident in his future. But all of that changed the minute his ridiculous ego decided to listen to the devil. Maxwell had tricked Wilson into creating a portal into this world and... No. Wilson willingly did this to himself. Burying his face into his knees, Wilson hugged himself next to the bright flames that kept him from dying in the darkness.

It wasn't Maxwell's fault he was such a fool. The pursuit of knowledge had rendered Wilson a beacon of stupidity and it truly showed the moment Maxwell whispered in his ear. The only thing that made Wilson feel better about this whole banishment to another dimension gig was that the devil who had taken advantage of him was overthrown by another entity. But of course, the realization that this overlord wanted to torture and kill him too wasn't far behind the celebration of Maxwell's failure.

Wilson lifted his head from the warmth of his own embrace as his dull eyes locked on the bright orange flames in front of him. There was no use caring about Maxwell or even Charlie. Those two were evils in a constant power struggle, so to hell with the both of them. Wilson needed to focus on surviving. The scientist's lips parted and a melodious yawn escaped.

He would survive, but for now, he needed to rest. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a bed, or even just a single pillow under his head. With uncertainty looming over his head, Wilson laid flat on the cold ground below, curling up semi-close to the fire in order to keep warm. Closing his eyes, Wilson tucked his hands under his head, praying that tomorrow would be kinder.

The sun rose high in the otherwise empty sky, awakening Wilson from his restless sleep. He had survived another night, but could he survive another day? Groggily lifting himself onto his feet, Wilson rubbed his eyes and let out a yawn. As soon as he opened his eyes, Wilson reached down and hoisted his backpack over his shoulder. Hopefully he could find some real food today. There was no time to waste, since winter would be on its way very soon.

The air was getting colder and the days were getting shorter. Wilson hugged himself, rubbing at his arms. He was shivering the moment he walked away from the embers that were left in his campsite. There was absolutely no way he could make it through winter if he was this ill prepared.

It felt like hours had passed as he wandered through the woods, picking up every bit of tall grass, twigs, and berries he could find. This area seemed to have been picked clean by someone - or something. The seasons were changing, so unless Gobblers differed from turkeys back home, that could explain the berries basically vanishing. Tall grass could have been eaten by wandering beefalo, but twigs? Wilson couldn't think of any creature that took twigs. And as for beefalo, Wilson had moved his fire pretty far from the last herd after a very angry beefalo tried to run him down.

Scratching his chin subconsciously, he felt a bit of a beard beginning to form. Without a mirror, it was harder to confirm what he looked like, but judging by how scratchy and strange it felt, Wilson had no doubt he looked like a delinquent. This didn't suit a gentleman scientist, not at all.

Discouraged, Wilson continued on. Before he knew it, evening had began to settle across the land and Wilson internally panicked, since he had wandered very far from camp and didn't know the way back. The evenings were even shorter than the days, so he would need to find flint quick. He still had time to make an axe. Wilson began to jog, his eyes panning across the forest floor for even the smallest bit of flint. His stomach began to turn into knots and he realized that despite eating something the night before, he barely ate enough to make him even half full.

There was no way he could keep running. Slowing his pace, Wilson stopped at a tree, placing his hand on the hard bark before he took a seat in the shade with an exhale. His eyes grew heavy and his body felt limp. Wilson could hear whispers of unseen entities mocking him. This was it. He was going to die. Even if he ate the very small handful of berries he had picked earlier, he would only be able to survive for minutes, by his calculations.

Wilson accepted his fate. He didn't argue with the whispers or acknowledge the growing darkness consuming him. His head began to throb from all the noise - the whispers, the mocking! Wilson couldn't even find the strength to rub his forehead. But what could one final soothing touch do for him?

His thoughts brought him back to his mother, as a child. Her soft voice, her warm touch. Wilson could almost feel his mother's soft hands checking his forehead for a fever. It was comforting, knowing his mother would be here in his final moments. Peeling his eyes open, he had hoped to see his mother, but instead, an unknown figure hovered above him, cast in an orange glow.

Wilson blinked, once, then twice. The figure began to clear up and he could see.. A human! Wilson furrowed his brow and attempted to move but immediately rested his head helplessly against the tree. Almost immediately after, Wilson felt a hand pushing something towards his face.

Focusing on whatever it was, Wilson struggled to realize what it was for a moment before his eyes widened in surprise. It was food! Real food! Meatballs and vegetables! Wilson found what little strength he had left and ate as quickly as his body would allow him, desperately trying to fill his stomach with anything that could keep him alive.

As soon as he finished, Wilson wiped his mouth and rubbed the side of his head, shaking his head to clear his vision. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the figure again, seeing clearly now that it was a girl. A girl with a lighter. She had long, soot coloured hair and pale skin, accompanied by gray lipstick that made her appear even paler than she actually was.

Wilson stared for a moment, realizing the girl's face was full of curiosity. Finally breaking the silence, Wilson spoke. "Are you real?" he asked, bringing himself to his feet now that he had the strength. "A real person?"

The girl held her lighter close to her face before replying, her voice soft like a flute. "I was about to ask you the same thing. It wouldn't be the first time I've seen an illusion of a person."

"My name is Wilson. Wilson P. Higgsbury," Wilson responded nervously, extending a hand to the mystery woman. She, in response, looked at his hand with uncertainty, letting it fall flat at his side after a moment of rejection. "My name is Willow. Just Willow," she replied, looking back over her shoulder as if someone was behind her. As her eyes fell back to the flame of her lighter, Willow sighed in relief, as if she was relaxed by the sight of light, or fire, for that matter.

Before Wilson could get in another word, hisses from the dark pierced the momentary silence between the acquaintances. Willow grabbed Wilson by the arm and began to pull him through the darkness, the small lighter in her hand the only light source they had. "Well, Wilson P. Higgsbury, if you are real, I won't have your death on my conscious. Follow me!"

And so began Wilson's new adventure